


For None are Safe

by Xhat



Series: Blood on Your Hands [1]
Category: Original Work, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22782940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xhat/pseuds/Xhat
Summary: None are safe from the taunting barrel of the gun, especially those who have gotten into the bad books of one of the largest crime syndicates in Italy. Teofila Barzetti is dispatched by her boss to rid Passione of the rats that have infested their ranks.
Series: Blood on Your Hands [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637905
Kudos: 1





	For None are Safe

Shoulders back and spine straight, Teofila still hadn’t come to terms with what had just unfolded. Everything up until this moment, where she stood with her back to the twin oak doors, had passed by so quickly that registering what she’d done wasn’t a necessity. Now, everything seemed muddled, tangled and thrashing and easily forgotten. So, as if to outpace her cluttered thoughts, the young Italian started forward. In no time at all, her surroundings blurred together, and after descending a set of stairs Teofila was standing outside of the once-grand building.

Nostrils flaring, the Teo leaned into the shadow of the house. Seeking comfort in the shade and the overarching darkness, she pressed herself against the stone wall, gazing absentmindedly out into the street. Not a soul roamed the sidewalk before her – a wise decision on their part, or a fluke, she couldn’t decide.

It was then that she started to truly grip the situation at hand. One by one, the events of the last hour came trickling back, clearer than the skies above. But one in particular stood out.

* * *

Her boss – the boss of the whole of Passione - had appeared before her, golden hair slung over his shoulder, blue eyes bright with mirth. Giorno Giovanna in the flesh. Leaning forward in his seat, he had cocked his head, inspecting her with silent determination. Teofila had merely returned the stare. Then, with a smile, he had extended his hand, something gripped tight between his fingers: a gun. It was not the model or colour of the gun she remembered, but the words he had uttered, blunt and true.

“I trust you know why you’re here, and what I ask of you to do. Kill him for me, and you shall become the new leader of our espionage squad. I can see myself trusting you, and _only_ you, Miss Teofila Barzetti.”

Without a word, she had taken the gun. Warnings tingled at the back of her mind, especially in regards to the fact that Giorno knew her legally given name – nobody, not even her own capo, knew it. Regardless, Teofila had killed before, so why should this be any different? She was a member of the most notorious mafia group in Italy, after all. She specialized in spying on those unwitting, as well, so in theory she was perfect for the hit. What was some more blood on her hands?

However, here she was, contemplating just why she had taken on the job. Pride? Revenge? Envy, perhaps? No, it was none of those things.

She was merely following orders. It was just stupid luck that there was to be a reward for her efforts. If the boss saw fit, he didn’t have to provide any sort of reward, so Teofila supposed she should take the chance that was presented to her. Bowing her head in a show of respect, the young woman took her leave, winding her way through the halls until she found herself out on the sidewalk.

Sparing a glance down at her watch, honey-gold eyes flashing, Teofila noted the time. Tapping the glass, she let out a thoughtful hum. Pushing those abhorrent thoughts to the back of her mind, the spy focused on the task at hand.

“It’s one-thirty now, Shadow on the Wall,” Teofila murmured, eyes shifting so that she could look over her shoulder. “You think that we can make it to their safe house in half an hour?”

Slowly, then all at once, the creature manifested behind her. Black tendrils, ones made of quivering shadow, extended from its body, contained only by golden armor. Its helmet, with horns curving upwards in a monster-like fashion, tilted to face its user. Almost snidely, the shadowy creature growled.

“You underestimate me,” it – she – rumbled. “I can have us there in twenty minutes, _puttana_.” Hovering over Teofila’s shoulder, Shadow pinned her with a stare, golden irises flaring. The Italian didn’t move an inch, unflinching in the face of darkness incarnate. It was her own stand, and to be afraid of Shadow on the Wall would prove harmful. Without a word, Teofila crossed her arms, turning to face Shadow fully.

“Let’s go then.” She motioned to the seemingly sturdy wall, voice devoid of any telling emotion. Finding some meaning in her words, the stand turned to gaze there as well. No further remarks were to be made, it seemed.

Then, in a flash of movement, Shadow on the Wall lurched forward, armored claws wrapping around Teofila’s upper arm. Swiveling, the stand snarled, shoving off and sending the two of them hurtling towards the stone. With its free hand flung out and talons splayed, the stand braced herself. On the contrary, the spy let herself go limp, eyes fluttering shut in a show of utter trust.

However, it was not a hard, jarring impact that greeted them. Rather, it was the cool embrace of darkness. Endless shadows. The street before her vanished within a few seconds, and so Teofila was left to float in the vast black. Bending her head back ever so slightly, she welcomed the dark, and so her stand faded behind her. Shadow would appear when she needed her, but Teofila had no use for her here in the world of shadows.

Reaching out a hand, Teofila ran her hand through what seemed to be pitch black. However, the dim parted, trickling through her fingers like coils of smoke, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. Flicking her wrist, she sent the shadows spiraling, and settled into herself once more.

Teofila had seen grown men soil themselves in this place – most of them shook at the sight of her stand alone. Here, she was completely at ease.

Though time had seemingly come to a halt, something akin to a phantom breeze pushed against her side. Drifting aimlessly, Teofila tilted her head, listening closely. Faintly, almost as it were muffled by a wall, were the familiar sounds of Naples – cars honking, people chattering, pigeons cooing. Yet, the sounds seemed to pass quickly, jumbled together in a cacophony.

That meant that she was getting somewhere, then.

Suddenly, lights began to prick holes in the darkness. The shadows around her began to whisper, and the phantom wind caressing her side began to pick up, buffeting against her suit. In one final gust, Teofila was pushed towards the widening gap of light.

Extending her leg forward, Teofila stepped out of her secret plane of existence and onto the street. The sounds of the city crashed down upon her, deafening in their own right. But the Mafioso had become used to such a ruckus, and without batting an eye, she gazed at the ramshackle building looming before her.

Her former comrades had chosen to hide in plain sight. Typical.

The gun strapped to her side began to weigh down on her. Instinctively her hand went to it, fingers tightening around the hilt. Teofila gave it a squeeze, before deciding to let go, hand dangling at her side. It would give away her ultimate goal if she was to walk in with the gun out and obvious. Just a few more minutes, and this would be over. All of it. Only pausing as long as it took to check for oncoming cars, Teofila took her first step towards freedom.

One foot placed in front of the other, heels clicking against the cobblestone, she approached the front door without a care in the world. Slipping a hand into suit pocket, Teofila retrieved a single key, which glinted as she unlocked the door before her.

The front door swung open slowly, creaking on its hinges. The smell of must and grime greeted her immediately after, and Teofila had to fight not to cringe. When was the last time they’d cleaned this place? She guessed it was to hide their presence, as she often would, but a dusting here and there wouldn’t have hurt. Inhaling all this crap would inhibit their abilities in the long run.

That was beside the point. Bending at the knee, preparing herself, the spy stepped inside. Slowly, stealthily, she slipped her shoes off, if only to not make more noise. The key to this was being silent – a silent, inconspicuous killer. It had been easy getting in, but offing every other prying eye in this decrepit house was going to be a challenge. Especially when she came upon her ex-leader: Alcide Voltagabbana, current caporegime of La Squadra dello Spionaggio. Dealing with him in particular wouldn’t be very pretty, if she were to make a single prediction.

Teofila heard the first person before they even caught sight of her. Stepping around the corner came one of the newer squad members, one whose name she had never bothered to learn. But he knew hers.

“Teo, you finally made it!” Failing to sense the mood, he stepped towards her, a lax grin twisting his features. Then he spotted the gun, which had conveniently made its way into her hand. His seemingly jovial expression dropped in an instant and though he seemed ready to pounce on a moment’s notice, Teofila was quicker on the draw. In a whirl of darkness, Shadow appeared at her side, charging towards the newcomer in a series of blinding movement.

He didn’t have time to shout, or scream, or even call out his stand before he was shoved into the shadows. Through the sensations she shared with Shadow, Teo felt the telltale warmth on her fingertips. She imagined Shadow on the Wall gripping the man by his throat, talons moving to slit his throat, blood spurting and coating the stand’s arms. Without a backward glance Teofila began to move down the hallway, eyes darting from corner to corner. Anyone could have seen – with stand abilities especially suited to spying, she wouldn’t be surprised if someone was already taking word to Alcide.

As she rounded the corner, Teofila could feel the bones in that man’s neck crack. Distracted, she spared a moment to stare down at her hands: bare. It may as well have been her that spilled his blood, though. Until Shadow on the Wall slipped out from the shadow of a nearby chair, warnings spilling from the stand, and a sudden force nearly knocked Teofila to her knees.

Whirling, the spy’s lip curled up in a grimace, and her gun snapped to attention. Forever the embodiment of darkness, Shadow on the Wall lurched forward towards the enemy who had yet to be seen. Functioning as one, Teofila and Shadow scanned the room, golden eyes sparking with caution.

There it was: a quiet shuffle and a glimmer of movement. Of course – the wall. Taking the opportunity, Shadow leapt, clawed hands extending forward. In an instant, a vague human shape separated from the peeling wallpaper, feinting to the side. Shadow’s claws gouged the space where it – he’d – been. Frustrated, the stand hissed, sending bits of wall flying as she turned to face the attacker. The shadows making up the stand’s forms flickered, splaying out in anger.

Teofila regarded the young man with a steady glare. He returned it with a blank stare. Her lips parted, and the spy pointed the gun at his head.

“Chameleon.”

“Teofila.”

That exchange of names was all it took. Chameleon moved to double back, the small, reptilian stand perched on his shoulders hurdling towards her own stand. Shadow caught it midair, talons snapping around its midsection, trapping it in a vicelike grip. Chameleon stopped dead, stumbling only to be glued to the spot where he now kneeled. The man’s hands flew to his torso, and pain broke through his expressionless façade. His stand’s struggle was fruitless, rooting both it and its user to their spots, much to Teofila’s pleasure.

Crouching down so that she could peer into his eyes, Teofila pressed her gun to the bottom of Chameleon’s chin.

“Where is he?”

Eyes bugging out, all that Chameleon could manage was a glance to the ceiling. Ah, so Alcide and the rest were upstairs. Humming her approval, Teofila removed the gun from his chin, but he didn’t relax. He knew what was coming.

Claws snapping shut, Shadow on the Wall crushed the stand writhing in her palm. As it snapped backward, unmoving, Teofila watched as Chameleon crumpled to the floor. Stepping past his body, she didn’t wait to see the blood bloom across his midsection, torso and bones crumbling.

Two down, two more to go. There was no doubt that Sandrino was upstairs, protecting Alcide, as he had always done. That man would protect their capo until the day he died, if that’s what it took, and Teofila supposed it was his lucky day.

Rising to her full height and straightening the wrinkles that had crinkled her suit, Teofila tucked the gun close to her side and stalked towards the stairs. The wood creaked beneath her feet, so she took great care to walk lightly. The element of surprise was most likely gone by now, but there was no harm in being cautious.

Slinking down the hallway and rounding another corner, Shadow on the Wall at her back, the Mafioso finally came to a door. Slightly ajar, it was a tempting thing indeed, but Teofila knew better. Having her stand grab at the back of her suit, they slipped into the shadow of the door, disappearing completely from sight.

Since it was only a room over, Teofila peered out from the shadows, zeroing in on Sandrino’s back, which was conveniently turned from her. If he would’ve looked behind him, he would’ve seen her stepping out from the darkness, gun in hand.

It was Alcide who shouted the warning. Sandrino whirled, and the two met with a clash. Teofila felt one bullet whiz by her head, only for another to find purchase in her shoulder. Though she fought the pain and only flinched in the slightest, her stand let out an ungodly screech, the shadows of her body flaring. Another shot – this time, from Alcide. She fired several of her own shots, blindly aiming. Teofila needed to act fast if she wanted to make it out of here with her life.

Legs bunching so that she could launch herself forward, the young woman was shoved Sandrino, the two tumbling to the floor. Sandrino’s gun flew from his hand, clattering to the floor and sliding far enough away that he couldn’t get to it. He swore quite colourfully, lashing out blindly as he and Teofila wrestled for the one remaining gun. Unlike his murdered teammates, the man was able to call out his stand out in time.

Teofila rolled off of him, barely avoiding a fist to the face. Sandrino’s stand, Highway to Hell, was a heavy hitter, evident in the way the floor cracked when coming into contact with its fist. In a flurry of darkness, Shadow on the Wall was on it, clawing and ripping at anything she could get purchase on. The stands duked it out, just as Sandrino and Teofila wrestled on the floor, until Shadow managed to grab a hold of Highway’s neck.

This time she saw Shadow’s penchant for slitting her victim’s throat, one of the stand’s golden talons sliding over Sandrino’s exposed neck. The thick red liquid frothed to the open wound and spilled down to the floorboards, but unlike her stand, Teofila took no pleasure in it.

Shaking off Sandrino’s waning grip, Teofila was quick to stand. She needn’t worry about him any longer: he’d merely bleed out. Her arm snapped up and towards Alcide, and they stood there in a trance, guns pointed at each other.

“Why not use your stand?” Teofila finally spoke, voice taunting. Alcide grimaced, his eyepatch shifting. The spy was swift in noticing that his hand shook… and that his shirt was stained with blood. Teofila grinned – her first real grin in a while – eyes crinkling at the edges. So she had gotten him with one of her bullets. “You can’t use it, can you?”

Alcide didn’t bother responding. Instead, he let out a snarl, pulling the trigger. Thankfully, in a streak of darkness, Shadow was there to knock the gun from his hands. The shot went awry, and Teofila’s stand took that as a chance to start swinging. Armored claws now curled into fists connected with Alcide’s nose, a loud crack ringing through the room, and the man cried out in pain. Grabbing the front of his rumpled suit, Shadow hoisted him up against the wall, claws threatening to pierce skin. Alcide panted, mouth parted, gold tooth glinting. Fear shone in his eyes as plain as day.

Teofila’s stand vanished before him, and Alcide fell to the floor in a boneless heap.

“You’re sparing me?” Stopping mid-cough, with blood dripping from his nose, Alcide looked up at Teofila. Tears began to gleam in his one remaining eye, and he pushed himself onto his elbows, eager to hear her answer. “You’re going to spare me, aren’t you?”

Sweeping dark brown hair away from her face, Teofila gazed down at him, eyes devoid of any emotion. She swept her pain under the rug, unwilling to let her true emotions show. “No,” she drawled, cocking her gun. Alcide blanched, colour draining from his tanned face. “I just don’t need my stand to end you.”

A single gunshot echoed through the house. With that single sound, La Squadra dello Spionaggio began anew.

**Author's Note:**

> I initially wrote this for a final project in twelfth grade, 2018, and here I am with an edited and revised version in 2020! This was what started my spin-off "Io Spio".


End file.
